On Friday, I went to get a haircut, to get my hair cut even shorter with the hope of ensuring I would look as male (not just “masculine”) as possible for this trip. A group ice-climbing trip that I joined with one of my climbing buddies and several close buddies of his, most of them with their girlfriends or wives.
The fact that after having been sick and stayed at home for most of last week I made the specific effort on Friday to go get a haircut to look “more male” is not a small thing. It’s actually a big thing, and quite sad, if you think about it. Something that I know only my trans/non-binary friends (& other trans/non-binary people) can fully understand. I felt the need to get a haircut to try and feel safer, more comfortable — not for myself or with my circle of close friends, but safer & more comfortable out there in the world, in a group of new acquaintances and in a town of strangers.
If you think about it, if you stop and think, it’s heartbreaking. Or infuriating. Or both.
Once we got to our destination yesterday afternoon, the three guys with whom I traveled & I were early for our AirBnB check-in so went to the local brewery. The waitress who served us was super friendly with all three of the (cis) guys, calling them “sir” and “man” and almost flirting with one of them (despite the big age difference). She basically ignored me. Fortunately, she didn’t call me “m’am”, but that hardly makes it better.
People stare at me but then ignore or don’t acknowledge me in public spaces. Part of the staring might be due to the fact that I still wear an N95-mask in public indoor spaces, but that cannot be the whole story. People stare like they’re trying to figure me out, they stare and scan me, but then there’s no attempt to address me or get to know me like it would have been when I was presenting female and looked like an attractive girl/woman. Nor are they friendly or flirtatious with me like they would be with a straight, cis guy.
Gosh, am I learning what it means to live with the weight of being neither cis nor straight.
Despite the daily frustrations I get at “home” (i.e. in that corner of Colorado where I have been living for the past couple years), I do live in a protected bubble and I’m never really prepared for the awful impact that these forays “out into the world” have on me. Yes, even in that “progressive bubble” where I live hardly a day passes that I don’t get misgendered or don’t have to put up with some other frustration or discrimination due to my being trans/non-binary. But I have built a sort of “layer of protection” around me there that helps buffer the frustration and pain and fear. I have a safe group of friends and some climbing buddies, who are all either queer or cis-male guys who take & treat me as one of them. The “outside world” with which I have to interact and that might still misgender me or force me into some uncomfortable binary choice (like only gendered changing rooms) is known to me so at least I have the “safety” or “protection” of familiarity. And somehow for all the uncomfortable or frustrating or painful interactions that I have to deal with almost daily, there are also as many safe, comfortable, affirming ones to counterbalance.
But that’s not the case now, here on this trip. Partly, having been at home sick last week I didn’t get my usual dose of affirmations because I wasn’t able to exercise nor to go to the gym and see familiar faces nor spend quality time in person with any of my close friends: so my own bucket of outer validations & inner self-confidence is empty. But even if it weren’t empty, even if it were full, I’d be struggling now.
As it is now, I’m feeling the crushing weight of the cis world and don’t want to interact with anyone from the ice-climbing group. I admit I’m probably coming in with my own assumptions, which also come from the fucked up patriarchic conditioning I received. But in this moment, I just don’t have the strength to show up in a group of mostly strangers where pronouns are assumed (it seems) and I’m the only trans/non-binary person. I don’t have the strength or courage to show up and risk being misgendered. I am honestly terrified of showing up and someone referring to me with female pronouns or the wives/girlfriends in the party trying to include me in their circle, as often happens in these male-dominated environments/activities.
As the behaviors at the brewery and many other small situations yesterday reminded me, we live in a binary world dominated by deeply ingrained cis dynamics which are exclusive and oppressive for whoever isn’t cis. It’s a constant trickle of microagressions (in the best cases). And I just don’t have the strength for it today.
I’m not one who usually feels much fear. So if I’m feeling terrified of being misgendered by someone in a group of acquaintances with whom I then have to spend the rest of the week, and if this fear is keeping me away from ice-climbing with them today, that means a lot.
The Little Prince and the Fox 